


and if we give a little of our love away; maybe meet in the middle every night and day

by LetsPeraltiago



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Anxious Amy, But then again it's not, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff that will kill, Married Couple, Married Life, Supprotive Jake, fluff for days, it's all good, surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 21:06:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16605452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetsPeraltiago/pseuds/LetsPeraltiago
Summary: Christmas 2020 comes around. Amy couldn't be more stressed; Jake couldn't be more blessed.





	and if we give a little of our love away; maybe meet in the middle every night and day

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many ways to say "I love you", without actually saying those three words. On my tumblr @LetsPeraltiago, you can find the prompt list containing 100 ways to say "I love you" and send me a number (+ a more specific request, if you wish to). You request and I write. This one is:
> 
> #19: I hope you like it. 
> 
> Again and as always, because I’m excited to share: this isn’t proof read yet, so sorry in advance for typos and other mishaps! But omg, guys… I’m actually (for once lol) so proud of this. I really poured every damn thing into it, so I’d really love love love if you’d give me some response! Enjoyyyy and merry early Christmas!
> 
> Also the title is lyrics from a celine dion song don’t look at me

Heavy chunks of ice, which the weather lady on TV dared to call ‘beautiful snowflakes’, drizzled down on the district of Brooklyn. Its habitants had naturally chosen to stay inside in order to escape from the cold, but also because it was indeed Christmas Eve. The streets were clear from people - not snow - and the only life to be seen was the flickering street lights and occasional birds as they searched for a hiding place themselves. 

Inside what used to be Amy Santiago’s apartment, two anxious individuals were running around the house in preparation for tomorrow’s festivities. Actually, the truth of the matter was that Jake Santiago Peralta was hopelessly stadning by the kitchen sink, feeling anxious for Amy Santiago Peralta, as he watched her anxiously run around the house. Luckily - Jake was starting to realise it was quite rather the opposite - Amy had been given the day off, since her entire family plus the Peralta-parents would be coming over for Christmas morning celebrations.

He hadn’t been around for the entirety of the day, since he still had to go to work, but his wife had been up and running around even before he had. In retrospective it was hardly surprising, but it had definitely caught him off guard at 5 AM, when her alarm had ripped them both out of a deep slumber. Within seconds the alarm was cut off, Amy was out of bed and he was left with the remaining warmth that her body had left on the mattress beside him. For a second he thought he was dreaming, but upon noticing the bathroom light being turned on, he’d lazily boosted himself into a half-risen position, resting on his forearm and elbow. After quickly checking the clock on his bedside table, he’d redirected his exhausted and disoriented gaze towards the bathroom.

“Ames?” His voice was groggy, and he had to squint; even the slightest light coming from the bathroom was burning his eyes. “What are you doing?”

A couple of seconds went by in silence, before she rushed out of the neighbouring room in what would be her grey, ‘down for business’-set of sweats and a high ponytail. Even through the darkness, he could tell that her facial expression showed no mercy and she was determinate as ever - Santiago style.

“Ames?” He tried to reach her again.

“Our families will be here in,” she swiftly glanced at her wristwatch, “T minus 29 hours and this place is a mess!”

“Wha-“ he frowned, even more profoundly than before, as his wife basically bolted out of the room with a huge binder with the title: ‘Santiago-Peralta Christmas 2020’, that she (apparently?) had stored in their closet for God knows how long. A deep sigh escaped his exhausted body, internally debating whether or not he was going to be a good or bad husband today. Even though he was lowkey exhausted by just the thought of his wife’s monstrous ambitions, he still still respected her enough to choose the latter and force himself out of bed. Within the timeframe of 5 minutes, he managed to get up and pull a signature hoodie over his pyjamas (aka. his boxers and a random t-shirt), allowing him to leave the coziness of the dark bedroom behind for the livingroom and whatever ‘mess’ his wife was talking about.

She was already running around the room and picking up clothes (mostly his - and yes, he did feel bad). With this tempo, she was going to exhaust herself in a matter of no time and just the thought pained him. Amy would have to slow down in orde to survive today, Jake knew, and as her husband it was his job to trick her into it since she’d never explicitly want to.

“Babe, calm down,” his voice was still tired, but he made sure it was still kind since the last thing she needed was to feel critiqued. “Let yourself sleep for once. It’s your day off.”

She froze on the spot, whipping her head in direction and letting him know that he’d stepped onto dangerous territory. “I will not allow our families to be disappointed by their first Christmas at our place, Jake. Everything needs to be in order, and sleeping won’t obtain that!”

“Okay…” It’s not like he didn’t know that telling her to calm down wouldn’t make her calm down, but it seamed like an obvious first try. Instead of giving up, like one maybe should at this point, he took a deep breath as he walked over to the opened binder on the dinner table. “But then at least let me help.” His eyes quickly skimmed over the visible pages, taking in all the sections, sub-sections and even sub-sub-sections.

By then she no longer looked mad, but now rather discouraged upon hearing him offer his help. “That’s very sweet of you,” she tugged the dirty laundry into the basket she’d brought along for the ride around the entire apartment. “But there’s so much to do and it needs to be done after the book. Just go back to sleep. I’ll be okay.”

“Ames,” he grabbed her wrist as she rushed past him, gently removing the laundry basket from her other hand and putting it down besides them. Before she could object to it, he was holding onto both of her hands in order to make sure she that he had her full attention. It was obvious, from the look in her dark eyes, that she was anxious, stressed and tired. Christmas was supposed to be the exact opposite. “There’s no way you can do this all by yourself. Let’s sit down for a minute, at least have a cup of coffee, and you can instruct me on what to do. Okay?” He looked straight into her eyes, sincerely hoping that she’d accept his offer and take some of the burden off her shoulders. As the cherry on top, he soothingly drew circles on the inside of her palms with his thumbs, hopefully working away some nerves.

Oddly enough, hearing her sigh and seeing her shoulders drop in defeat was indeed more than a simple victory for Jake. It meant that he, to some extent, had fought off the stressed beast inside his wife’s gut. “I guess you’re right… Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he sent her a tired smile, before pressing his lips to her forehead for a tender moment, before mumbling against it. “Sit down and I’ll brew us some coffee. Then we can go through your binder together.”

 

 

A lot had happened since T minus 29 hours.Even though the entire apartment was now spotless, decorated to pure perfection (precisely like Amy’s binder had predicted: colour-coordinated, well-balanced and including bothsmall catholic and jewish touches) and most of the food was prepped for tomorrow morning, they’d hit the ’T minus 13’-mark. Just when he thought he’d seen his wife at her worst, she absolutely crumbled in front of him. 

“No no no no!” She almost screamed at the oven, squatting in front of it and desperately pressing all of its buttons. “Why. Won’t. You. Work!” With every word, the poor, defenceless oven received a punch from the agitated woman. That’s when Jake decided that enough was enough. He wanted to be the last person to tell a woman what to do, but there had to be limits. Beating up an oven was now one.

“Woah woah woah!” He jogged over to gently pull her to her feet and back to a distance, where the oven wouldn’t suffer further abuse. “Alright, babe… Time out.” He grabbed her shoulders to spin her 180 degrees and restrain her from turning away.

“But the turkey needs to slow roast!” She whined and Jake could swear that he could spot tears forming in his eyes. “It needs 12 hours and 45 minutes in the oven like Boyle showed me, and if everyone arrives at 10 AM tomorrow, then it needs to get in within the next 5 minutes!”

“Babe,” he tried to get through to her - again - slightly tightening his soft grip on her shoulder, just to get her attention as he had rarely seen her spiral like this. “You don’t get it! If it doesn’t go in NOW, then it’ll be way too pink for anyone to eat-“

“Ames!” He snapped, not angrily bit firmly enough to get her attention for a second. “Breathe with me, okay?” He started taking deep breaths - inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth - never letting his eyes leave hers. Seconds later she was quietly breathing with him, and he allowed himself to gently rub her shoulders. The worst was over.

A calm smile spread across his face, hoping that she’d soon mirror it. “Amy… Everything looks perfect and it’ll still look that way tomorrow.”

“But the turkey-,” she whimpered quietly.

“The turkey will be fine as well. Yes, people will arrive at 10, but we’re not gonna serve the turkey until lunch, which means we have an extra couple of hours for it to cook. Everything is done and going accordingly to the binder. There’s nothing else you can do now. Please stop?” It was now his turn to look desperate, sincerely hoping that this would be enough to convince her. A silence washed over them, like the quiet after a massive storm, and it allowed Jake to hear his wife’s finally even breaths. Thank God.

He felt her exhale deeply under his soft touch on her arms. “O-okay. You’re right…” A tiny smile finally broke out on her face.

It was now Jake’s turn to let out a heavy breath, relieved from the bottom of his hear, which also showed when a adoring smile followed behind. “Good. Now I’ll take care of the bird, while you go take a nice shower.”

“You’re the best,” she gently placed her hand where his heart hid behind his firm chest, and quietly took soaked the soothing beat. “Meet me out here afterwards? I have… an early Christmas present for you.”

This immediately caught Jake’s attention, obviously showing as his brows rose in curiosity. “Ooooh, is it something sexy?” He teased, only earning a pair of rolling eyes and a soft punch to where her hand had previously rested.

“Jake… Turkey,” and with that his Amy was back on earth and walking towards the bathroom.

 

 

Later that evening, after respectively showering and putting the huge bird in the oven (and also making sure that the timer was set correctly), the couple settled down on the couch together. In the background, soft Christmas music and dimmed fairy lights were finally allowed to give the room its destined cozy and relaxed atmosphere. To Jake’s relief, Amy looked much healthier and happier. And if that was all he’d get for Christmas that year, then he’d be more than okay with it. Yet the small package in her lap told him that it wasn’t. 

“Ames, I thought we were going to open presents tomorrow?”

A soft, yet somewhat nervous, smile was plastered to her glowing face as she nervously fidgeted with the green, flawless curled ribbon. “I know,” she allowed herself to glance up at him through her dark eyelashes. “But I waned to give you this without everyone else around. Merry Christmas, Jake.” She carefully placed the red and green package in his hands, chewing on her bottom lip as he carefully unwrapped it.

To both her delight and fear, Jake quickly finished the unwrapping process, pushing the paper aside to reveal a little white, knitted cloth. His eyes rose to meet hers. Confused but not disappointed; Questioning but pleasantly curious.

“ ** _I-I hope you like it_** ,” she stuttered nervously, still smiling, as he pulled the cloth completely out of the packaging.

“You know I love everything you make, but what-,” his sentence was cut short, when he held up the cloth and two additional, seemingly smaller pieces cloths emerged from either side of the bigger piece. For a second, he seemed even more confused before until a realisation hit him like lighting and caused the man to freeze.

“A cardigan?”

She nodded, telling him he was indeed headed in the right direction with this guessing game. Another realisation hit him.

“A tiny cardigan?”

She once more, just like before, nodded in approval. A few seconds of silence allowed the other shoe to drop and never before had Amy Santiago Peralta seen her husband’s wider. Not even the first time she kissed him against that tree; not even the first time she said “I love you”; not even on their wedding day.

“A tiny cardigan,” he repeated, this time a statement instead of a question. After taking a second to look at the fabric in his hands like he was in deep thought, he glanced back at his wife with stars in his eyes. “A tiny cardigan. For a tiny human.”

Her previously nervous smile was immediately replaced by a wide, toothy smile and crystal clear tears forming in her eyes. A final approving nod from her sent him over the edge. Completely forgetting about it in the moment, he dropped the fabric in his lap and immediately lurched forward to cup her rosy cheeks in his hands. Within seconds, before she had the time to blink or understand what was going on, his lips were and hers. The world around them disappeared as he carefully stroked her now damp cheeks, while he poured all of his love and joy into a soft yet passionate kiss.

“Is this real?” He pulled back a bit, just barely enough to speak; almost too excited and out of breath for it to be coherent. His forehead was still resting against hers. He kissed her again before she had the time to answer properly, limiting her to a nod and a smushed hum. After another few tender moments of just soaking in their mutual joy and love, he broke the kiss again, still leaving their foreheads touching.

“I’m going to be a dad,” a single tear rolled down his cheek in overwhelming disbelief. This was definitely too much for his own good, but he didn’t care.

“Yes,” she sniffled, definitely crying more than him, but also not really caring. This was their Christmas miracle. Not anyone else’s. Just theirs for now. “You’re going to be dad.”


End file.
